Demon Lord 6: Garnet Tongue Goddess Page 5

  I looked over at Shiva. “That’s twice now. If he starts trouble again, I want you to break one of his legs.”

  Shiva smiled like someone who doesn’t mind torturing small animals. “It will be my pleasure.”

  Malevolence grinned. “Can I help?”

  Shiva nodded. “Got a baseball bat?”

  Rooster looked up from his cards. “Remember the cameras. Vid gets out, it’s trouble. You don’t want to go to jail. Again.”

  I mock-coughed into my fist, “Spray paint.”

  Malevolence looked at me, understanding shining in her eyes. “We’d only need to take out one or two cameras.”

  “Are we going to play, or what?” Clifford asked. “And for the record, I didn’t hear any of this, but I have a tire iron I’ll rent by the hour.”

  Damn. These are my kind of people. I guess Crusher’s been giving everybody a hard time.

  It came my turn. I held the queens, discarded the rest, and drew three new cards: a seven, four, and another queen.

  My inner dragon’s tail thumped heavier, rattling the terrain of my mindscape where he dwelled between changes. I tossed out a hundred.

  Rooster glared at me. “Trying to buy the pot? I say you’re bluffing.”

  I shrugged. “One way to find out.” I eyed the cash in front of him. My dragon did a quick inspection as well. He informed me. Four-hundred and fifty-three dollars and seventy-five cents … plus a cap from a beer bottle.

  Rooster met my bet and added another hundred.

  Clifford matched the raise and called.

  My three queens took the hand. I raked in the pot.

  Rooster slammed his palms on the table.

  Malevolence sighed. “Calm down, Dad. It’s only money. If you run out, I’ll give you some more. Won’t be the first time.”

  Rooster’s face softened as he stared at her. “I know I can always count on my baby girl.”

  Mal reddened in the face. “Not in public, Dad. I got an image to maintain, you know?”

  He grinned at her discomfort. “Sorry. I’ll try to remember.”

  Crusher was up on his feet, wavering a little. His boomy voice carried over to our table. “What happened?”

  Malevolence yelled. “You got your ass kicked.”

  The repair girl suppressed a quick smile and nodded. “What she said.”

  “It’s all coming back to me,” Crusher said. His sweeping gaze found Shiva. She faced him, fists on her hips. He stormed toward her.

  Clifford muttered. “Here we go again.”

  Showing he wasn’t utterly stupid, Crusher stopped just out of punching range. His stare looked fevered. And lustful, as it slid down her body and back up again, lingering on her tits. “Okay, I had that coming. Friends?” He held out his hand. Waiting.

  She looked at his hand, then tentatively offered her own. Like me, I knew she suspected this to be a trick.

  It was. Once he gripped her hand, he tugged her to him, catching her in his arms. Instead of a bear hug meant to bust her ribs, he kissed her—hard. The surprise of it kept her from struggling.

  Crusher pulled back a little. “Come on, baby, loosen up. You’re so stiff, it’s like kissing a statue.”

  I snorted softly. She’s a living statue. Earth magic. You’re kissing a glorified rock, dude. A rock wit hnice tits.

  Shiva did relax in his hold. I expected her to follow up with a sudden knee to the groin. No such luck. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

  The nurse picked up her bag and walked toward the entrance. “Well, my work here is done.”

  The repair girl stood there, watching, an avid interest holding her as if she were the one being kissed. I knew the type. Her idea of a fun evening would involve curling up on a couch with a romance novel and a pint of ice cream.

  Crusher broke the kiss, but not his hold. “I like a girl with fire in her belly.”

  And then the ghost lights were back, pulsing, whirling around Shiva and Crusher, bathing them in pulses of multi-colored light. One of the lights, a purple one, wobbled over and hovered above the table—possibly disturbed by the gambling—but it flew back to the rest of the spirits, rejoining their chaotic orbits.

  “This is getting old,” I said. I gathered up my winnings, preparing to leave.

  Shiva stiff-armed Crusher to clear some space between them. She turned and came back to the table where I sat. The lights ringed her but didn’t impede her movements. Some of the spirits still circled Crusher where he stood, a cocky smile on his face. With the public display of affection suppressed, the lights zoomed off, losing interest in us.

  Repair girl also turned away, heading toward the cafeteria entrance.

  I pushed up from the table. “Back in a few.” I passed Shiva. She started to follow. I held up a hand to stop her. “Better stay here. Crusher may want to heat up those lips of yours again.”

  “I was just…”

  I kept going. “Not interested. Holy can keep me alive while you keep an eye on things here. If anything more threatening than spooky lights shows up, call me before kicking its ass.”

  Holy walked a step behind me, on my right. She smelled of electricity the way the air does as a thunderstorm starts to build. I figured it wouldn’t be long before static charges crackled off her skin. We crossed the room to the hall. I spoke over my shoulder. “I need a few minutes with Christie. Give us some space once we catch up.”

  Geek girl moved down the hall, toward some stairs. I called out. “Hold up. I want to talk to you.”

  She turned and stopped like a bunny in the headlights of a speeding car, unsure which way to hop. I was glad she hadn’t run; that gave us something to build upon. She angled her head as I stopped a few feet away. Once more, the light ghosted across her glasses in a way that hid her eyes.

  It’s deliberate. She tends to occupy points in space that conceal her gaze.

  “You got a name?” I asked.

  “Christie.”

  I drew a deep breath. The hall smelled of dust, rot, mold, and mouse droppings. She smelled of hibiscus and rosehip shampoo, oatmeal soap, skin moisturizer, and clove oil. The last gave me food for thought. I eased closer, sliding my foot ahead before shifting my weight. It was a planting movement used by some martial artists to adjust or change their fighting stances.

  Her breath caught. Her head dipped as she glanced down. Her hips angled in reflexive response. Yeah, she had some training, and I was guessing she knew her way around a sword. High carbon steel blades can rust, so they are routinely kept lightly oiled with clove oil.

  “What’s your style,” I asked.

  “Katori Shinto Ryu, sorta.”

  “Sorta?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve never actually stepped foot in a dojo. I’m self-taught. Started off with lightsabers when I was a kid.”

  I took a guess. “You do a lot of Power Rangers cosplay?”

  “Yeah, and YouTube tutorial videos are helpful too.”

  I grinned at this untrained swordswoman, imagining her lithe curves in a skintight pink Power Ranger suit and a visored helmet, throwing high-energy punches and kicks around. She probably knew just enough to be dangerous due to her unperfected style. Novices can be deadly to real professionals, but she had me interested. “You’ll have to show me some time, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  She lifted an eyebrow.

  “I know you guys are recording in places you shouldn’t be. I know you’ve got video of my bedroom encounter with Lillian.”

  She tensed up. “You’ll need to talk to Teresa about that.”

  “Eventually. Don’t get the wrong idea; I’m not going to sue or file criminal charges.”

  “Criminal charges?” Her eyes got huge. Her glasses slid down nose. She used a single finger to push them back into place. “Wait a minute now—”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hold you responsible. In fact, you have an opportunity to earn my gratitude—and a big chunk of cash.”

 
; She glanced at the camera behind me, and lowered her voice. “How big, and what am I supposed to do for it?”

  I countered with a question of my own. “How good are the microphones installed around this place?”

  She touched a box hanging on her belt. A green LED light came on. “This area is now offline. I have a remote control system override. My privacy is important to me.”

  “Then you’ll understand my desire not to have footage of me fall into the hands of the show. If my recreational activity with Lillian were put on the internet, I’d acquire way too many stalkers.”

  “Yeah, I can see where that might be embarrassing.” Her face warmed with a blush, telling me she seen the recording in question.

  “When I’m done here, I’m going to want you to erase me from the system and destroy all hardcopy—except for those you’ll make for me.”

  “That could cost me my job.”

  “Not if you don’t get caught. Oh, and I want a jamming box like yours.” I could do the same thing with my Demon Wings tattoo, but flicking a switch was better than burning up magic unnecessarily.

  “I’m sorry I can’t—”

  “Ten thousand dollars. And if you lose your job, I’ll get you a better one. I have unbelievable contacts.” Meaning none at all. I smiled with deep sincerity. “Trust me.”

  Her flush deepened. She stepped closer, peering into my eyes. Despite her shy demeanor, there was a fierce hunger in her eyes. “I’m going to want something else, as a bonus.”

  I let the smile drop, offering her a predator’s stare—my negotiating face.

  A shudder went through her.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I want to scream…”

  “Huh?”

  “Like Lillian. I’ve never screamed in my life—in bed, I mean.” Her whispery voice went husky with need. “I need you to fuck me. Make me your slutty bitch.” Her gaze slanted away. “I don’t want to live my life without ever having … that. I’m sorry, but it’s a deal-breaker.”

  I kept my face straight while laughing on the inside. “You’ve got me over a barrel, so fine. Ten thousand dollars, and five hours of soul-withering passion, and you’re my agent on the inside. Deal?”

  She didn’t look me in the face, but nodded agreement. “Deal. For another thousand, I’ll tell you where the bodies are buried.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “You’ve got dirt on people?”

  She shook her head side to side. “Not blackmail, I’m talking about real bodies. Teresa says we can’t alert the police to our find; they’ll come in and shut us down while they do an investigation. Teresa says we’ll lose too much time. She plans on alerting the authorities the day we wrap up, pretending to make the discovery then.”

  Real bodies. This could be the reason spirits are haunting this place.

  “Can you take me there without Teresa figuring out what we’re doing?” I asked.

  “Tonight,” she said. “Meet me in back of the building, and don’t tell anyone else. The fewer people that see us together, the safer I’ll be.”

  “Sure. Let’s make it midnight.”

  “Why midnight?”

  “Seems appropriate, somehow.”

  “Okay. I’ll be the one in the black Power Ranger costume.”

  “Not pink?” I’d guessed wrong.

  “I’m saving that one for my, uh, bonus time with you. You’re going to have to rip it off my body—but, uh, leave the mask, and boots. I have to protect my secret identity.”

  “Heavens! Can’t wait.”

  Oh, the things I do to complete a mission...

  I headed back to the cafeteria. There was a poker game to finish.

  1

  SEVEN

  “Ah, the fresh smell of

  dead bodies; so relaxing.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  Hours later, much richer, I awoke from a brief nap and activated the Demon Wings tattoo on my upper back and shoulders, I paid the usual price for using dragon magic in human form—intense crippling agony. I managed not to piss my pants. My liver flip-flopped, tying itself in knots. The sensation faded in moments as the You-Don’t-See-Me spell activated.

  The usual theory behind a Demon Wings tribal pattern was that seeing them, a demon spirit would leave you alone, thinking you were one of them since you had your own demon wings. My tat took this one step farther, extending the cloaking spell to everything I might encounter. Touching someone, I could pull them inside the effect, letting them see and hear me. Christie had her little override box. I had this.

  I left Shiva and Holy in the room, asleep on their cots, and stepped out into the second-story hallway. I made my way to a staircase and took it down to the first floor. It was close to midnight. I ghosted through the shadows of the great hall, heading for the back of the building. The place was full of whining winds and shadow. Floorboards creaked. I heard the scurrying of rats in the walls. I was just one more ghost, unseen, invisible.

  I found the back door and went through it. Christie was waiting for me. She stared at the door that—to her—looked like it opened by itself. I closed the door and watched her back up several steps.

  I waited, judging her nerve.

  After a moment, she advanced, one hand fanning the air between us, her other hand resting on the full-tang hilt of a sheathed katana. She looked cute in a skintight black Power Ranger costume, the mask pushed up on her head like a hat.

  She said, “Could have been a draft, I suppose.”

  I walked past her and slapped her ass in passing.

  She spun, one hand covering the impact point. “Freakin’ hell! This defies all laws of nature.”

  I waved a hand she couldn’t see past her face, a few sparks of darkness danced at my fingertips. The shadow magic unspooled into the air, threads that coalesced into an imitation butterfly. My raw magic fueled its pseudo life. The simulacrum fluttered into her hair like an accessory and perched there. Connected to me, the butterfly exempted her from the Demon Wings spell I used. I expected to run into more ghosts, and I wanted to see if my magic could mask me from their peculiar perceptions.

  I watched her eyes widen as she saw me. “Don’t freak out. Things around me always get bad before they totally go to hell.”

  “Caine, what are you, some kind of ninja?”

  I smiled. She thought I’d just faded in, not realizing the butterfly had tuned her to me. “Don’t try to figure it out, just go with it. Lead on. I’ll be right behind you, where it’s safe.”

  She gave me an uncertain look, but moved on, leading the way across a brown weedy lawn. At a right angle to the back of the school, a small building jutted out. It was white brick and two-story with ten-foot, stained-glass windows, and a steeple on a peaked roof. We approached the chapel’s side door, climbing three stairs. Christie needed no key, just the flashlight in her hand which threw out a strong, white beam. She turned the door latch and entered.

  Inside, the light of a crescent moon spilled past a gap in the roof where a number of boards had fallen in. The cavernous space held half-rotting pews waiting in silent ranks on either side of a center aisle. A dusty, hardwood floor showed evidence of recent traffic. The air was dusty as well. To the right, leading back into the school, the far wall had double doors that were nailed shut from the inside. The way we’d used seemed to be the only avenue in or out.

  Christie moved toward the front, left corner of the chapel, bypassing the raised stage and its lonely pulpit. I’d been in graveyards and other consecrated places. There was no sanctity left here. Instead, I sensed a slumbering darkness, the echo of ancient evil. Something bad had happened here, leaving behind a curdled aura.

  An open doorway revealed a hallway. We took the hallway, and it turned right, into another. Floorboards creaked under our weight. “You guys did check these floors? We’re not going to fall through, right?”

  Christie said, “It’s safe, probably. Knock on wood.” She wrapped knuckles on a wall. The sound echoed ahead of u
s.

  Another board creaked beneath my steel-toed boots. “Okay, if I fall through and break my neck I’m never going to speak to you again.” I wasn’t really that worried. Being half dragon, half slayer, I had more than human strength, heightened reflexes, and I tended to heal rather quickly. Fear of damage didn’t hinder me as it did humans.

  In the middle of the hallway, an open door revealed stairs leading to the basement. We went downstairs. The flashlight beam splashed across concrete flooring and walls. There were cracks in the foundation from water damage. Overhead, the large wooden crossbeams and wooden boards smelled of dampness and mold. I thought a loud sneeze might bring them down.

  Christie went forward until she was directly under the chapel’s center. A wall stood there. The basement seemed to be half the size of the chapel above, however, a four-foot hole in that wall disproved this theory. Fallen bricks littered the floor. The debris revealed what had once been a hidden space.

  “How cliché,” I said. “Bodies behind a wall?”

  “Old bodies,” Christie said. “From the personal possessions and the clothing, these people have been here for about a hundred years. A very cold case.”

  Having left a lot of bodies lying around in my time, I knew a little about forensics. I pushed past Christie and peered through the hole. The place had aired out a little but still smelled of decay. The wall beyond the bodies was brick, possibly protecting yet another secret space. I’d have to look into that.

  She offered me the flashlight.

  I waved it off. My inner dragon trotted out of the back shadows of my mind, using my eyes to see with. The darkness shifted into a silver-gray wash with greenish highlights. I counted five bodies in rotting clothes. From the tilt of the pelvic bones, these were all girls. Skeletal damage—especially necks that had been bitten through—indicated violent deaths.